Iniquity and Intrigue
by Doc Scratch
Summary: Murder Mystery AU set in 1892. Arthur Kirkland is a wealthy lawyer with little family left. As a result, his loneliness drives him to throw parties for friends and acquaintances at his mansion. However the party this evening does not go as planned. Slash.
1. In Which Most of The Guests Arrive

A/N: So I _promised _myself I wouldn't post this until I actually had it finished. Shows how much self-control I have, I suppose. Ah well, I have the whole thing planned out, that's almost as good as having it actually written... right...? Anyway, enjoy. And feedback would be _greatly_ appreciated... I worked hard on this baby.

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers: Hetalia, nor am I making any profit off of this story other than my own amusement.

Summary: Murder Mystery AU set in 1892. Arthur Kirkland is a wealthy lawyer with little family left. As a result, his loneliness drives him to throw parties for friends and acquaintances at his mansion. However the party this evening turns out to be a lot more than dinner and games...

Warnings: Slash. (Though not in this chapter.) That means relationships of the male/male variety. Also blood... possibly gore... and definitely a few Mature Audiences Only scenes. Have fun.

Iniquity and Intrigue

Chapter the First: In Which Most of The Guests Arrive, and The Prussian Causes a Disturbance (Or Two.)

The first knock came at five, a tad early for a dinner party as it were, but then punctuality was in general terms praised as a virtue. Besides, someone had to be first. Arthur only wished that the someone, or someones as the case was, didn't happen to be the Beilschmidt brothers. He hadn't a thing against the two Germans, really, the younger was in fact quite agreeable, as well behaved or better than any young gentleman Arthur Kirkland had come across. But the elder...

"Hallo Eyebrows!" Gilbert Beilschmidt's unusually sharp-toothed grin glinted with the glare of the entrance hall's lights. The albino man was the polar opposite of his brother. It was a complete mystery where Ludwig had obtained his manners, seeing as how he'd been raised more or less solely by his wild brother. "West's obsessed with times and dates and all that stuff. I told him it's better to be fashionably late, 'specially in this day and age, but would he listen? Noooo..." Arthur cleared his throat before Gilbert could get into stride, so to speak, with his spiel.

"In any case, I'm glad you could make it." Arthur lied with a barefaced smile. "Do come in, no one else has arrived yet, I'll show you to the drawing room..." He stepped back to let them in, and the Germans stepped inside, Ludwig nodding politely, an apologetic expression on his face. Arthur nodded back, hoping his own expression conveyed that he was quite used to Gilbert's ill behaviour and didn't hold Ludwig accountable in the slightest.

"Don't bother, we know where it is." Gilbert tilted his head towards the hall, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "I think I saw Specs and the ex-Missus comin' up behind us anyway." Without further ado, he tugged on his brother's sleeve, leading the resigned blonde towards the familiar place of gathering at Arthur's mansion. Arthur sighed to himself, relieved and exasperated in one. He turned back to the door... just in time, as indeed Herr Edelstein and Madame Hedervary had arrived, the former's sharp, refined rap identifiable at once. Arthur didn't feel any sort of surprise, this was all in due course. The Germans always arrived first, it was just as natural as the Italians always arriving last, and considerably late at that. Less expected was the presence of the American, Alfred Jones, standing just behind the former couple.

"Hey Arthur!" Alfred's radiant smile completely wiped away any objection Arthur may have had to his informality. Of course, he and Alfred were quite intimate, the tall blond having been raised alongside him, not unlike a brother. However they had grown considerably apart, so to speak, and Arthur wasn't sure (or at least wasn't ready to admit to himself) why he made efforts to keep up the acquaintance. Yet he did, and here Alfred was, right on time... for once. Generally it was a rare event for him to show up more than a few minutes earlier than the Italian twins.

"Arthur, thank you for the invitation." The lightly accented tones of the aristocratic Herr Edelstein were as politely clipped as ever. Although the man could be stuffy and condescending even by Arthur's standards, when he relaxed he was one of the most pleasant conversationalists to be had, and if nothing else he was always well-mannered. Well... almost always, excepting certain circumstances. Specifically ones regarding Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"Of course Roderich, thank you for coming. You as well Elizaveta, Alfred." Arthur nodded with a genuine smile, holding the door open for his friends.

"Did you re-decorate?" Madame Elizaveta Hedervary questioned brightly. A sweet lady with quite the temper when roused, she had once been married to Edelstein but unexplained events had caused them to separate, although they appeared to remain on friendly terms and were often seen together regardless.

"I added a few new paintings, but I would hardly say I re-decorated." Arthur explained, leading the way to the sitting room this time. Ludwig was seated neatly in one of the armchairs, examining a magazine on automobiles with some interest. Gilbert was nowhere to be seen, and Arthur couldn't decide if this was a blessing or cause for alarm...

"Ludwig, early as ever." Roderich greeted, Ludwig stood immediately, waiting as any decent gentleman for Elizaveta to choose a chair before taking his seat again.

"Yes, the same could be said of you." Ludwig replied, running a hand over his cleanly slicked back hair. "You've been well I trust? All three of you, I mean." He added, nodding to Elizaveta and Alfred.

"I've been great!" Alfred answered before the others could get a chance. "Wait 'til I tell you. It's been so awesome-"

"Did someone say something about awesome?" Gilbert's head appeared from around one of the bookshelves in the room, startling Arthur (and apparently Roderich) rather badly. He smirked at the sight, emerging entirely and walking over to tweak a loose curl of Roderich's otherwise straight brown locks. "You should learn to walk faster Specs, though not wearing girly boots might help." Roderich swatted at the hand tugging on his hair, understandably irritable.

"And you should learn how to behave. Honestly, Gilbert, keep your hands to yourself." Roderich pushed his glasses up his nose with two long, slim fingers. Gilbert laughed rudely, and Arthur excused himself on the pretext of waiting for the other guests at the door, eager to avoid any scenes that might occur...

The mahogany-paneled hallway was a relief yet again, although the breather didn't last. The next of the invited did indeed arrive quickly, an entire group at once, although when Arthur opened the door this time he could see little else for the gigantic form of Ivan Braginski all but filling the doorframe.

"Privyet!" Few things on this Earth were as nervewracking as Braginski's smile, but as the second highest-ranking associate in Arthur's exceedingly prestigious law firm, it was necessary to keep up a healthy relationship with the big Russian. The fact that he was a direct path to the best quality of vodka available was hardly describable as a motive, really.

"Welcome, Ivan, so glad you could make it." Arthur managed a polite enough smile in return, standing aside and pulling the door wider. Braginski entered, stomping flakes of snow off his boots and prompting Arthur to glance outside in surprise at the falling snow. It wasn't unusual for this time of year, but the forecast in the paper had been for clear skies. Ah well, meteorology was hardly an exact science, being merely recently developed at that. More surprising was the presence of Toris Laurinaitis, Feliks Lukasiewicz, Eduard von Bock, and Raivis Galante on his doorstep. Although he was always sure to extend an invitation to all his friendly colleagues, it was rare to see these four anywhere near a function that included Braginski if they could possibly help it. Arthur had never inquired towards the reasons for this, though the curiousity was a constant gnaw in his gut when the subject came to mind. Nonetheless, he greeted them pleasantly and led the group to the parlour, where it appeared that Roderich had seated himself at the grand piano.

It was with great reluctance that Arthur left the room again. No one played the piano quite as beautifully as Roderich Edelstein, but there were still several guests who had yet to arrive, and Arthur's manners would not allow him to risk not hearing the knocking over the piano's music. Besides, he could just hear the faint echoes of the performance from down the hall, so it wasn't as if he were missing it entirely. As Arthur turned to be sure that there was still room on the coatrack, he bumped into someone and jolted back.

"Ah- my apologies, I didn't reali- Matthew?" Arthur blinked, stunned, at Alfred's gentle twin, the boy's lavender eyes clouded with worry. While Alfred had been raised by his father in the house next door to Arthur's, Matthew had been taken to Canada by the pair's mother, and it was only a few years ago that the two had reunited. Nevertheless, the twins were now very attached in the manner of brothers, and Arthur had become quite fond of Matthew, though his sudden unexplained appearance was a shock.

"No, it was my fault, I'm sorry Arthur!" Matthew Williams stepped closer, looking him over as if to be sure he'd done no harm. Arthur stared in blank confusion.

"Not at all, I'm fine, just- er... how exactly did you get in? I've been watching the door and I didn't even hear you knock..." Arthur trailed off as Matthew's face fell, the youth practically shrinking in on himself.

"Oh..." Matthew said miserably. "I came in with Alfred and the others earlier..." Arthur winced, not for a moment doubting the truth of the statement. He liked Matthew, truly, but the boy was unfortunately easy to overlook. "I... I was just behind Alfred I... expect you simply didn't see me, eh?"

"Oh, yes, of course that's it. Terribly sorry Matthew..." Arthur tried a smile, but Matthew looked no less distressed, so Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I _am _glad you're here." Matthew brightened considerably at that, giving Arthur a small, but warm smile.

"Thank you." He replied. "Anyway, I only came to retrieve something from my coat pocket, I'll just return to the others now and not disturb you further." Arthur hesitated for a moment as Matthew turned and began walking back down the hall, but then he reached out to catch the other man's wrist.

"No, do stay! It's, ah, it's just terribly dull waiting here by myself." Arthur paused, "I mean, that is, if you don't mind leaving the party for a moment. I'm sorry, I don't mean to keep you..." Matthew's smile was much wider now, some of the shyness having dropped away, and he shifted to pull his wrist out of Arthur's grasp and clasp his hand instead.

"I don't mind at all, of course I'll stay." He replied, and Arthur breathed an internal sigh of relief that he'd managed to undo the damage. He and Matthew shared several minutes of pleasant conversation, discussing mainly the latest Sherlock Holmes story to have appeared in _The Strand_. They were interrupted briefly when Arthur had to open the door for Kiku Honda and Yao Wang, polite Asian ambassadors that Arthur had met several times at various societal parties. He'd taken quite a liking to Kiku, and Yao hovered over the Japanese boy like a protective parent. He took them to the parlour with a brief warning about Gilbert, gave introductions, and returned to fetch Matthew. It was no good waiting for the Italians, they'd be wasting half the evening away.

...Although, upon being only a few steps away from a book to the face upon re-entering the parlour, wasting half the evening in the safety of the hall might not be entirely devoid of credit. The book, a respectably thick history of law, embedded itself in a decorative vase in the corner of the room. Arthur traced it's trajectory back to an incensed Roderich, sans spectacles, who was glaring at Gilbert, wearing aforementioned spectacles.

"Haha, maybe you _do _need 'em, if your aim's that awful!" The Prussian was laughing, failing to notice Elizaveta creeping up behind him and-

"Excuse me!" Arthur said loudly, not wanting an all-out brawl to take place. The belligerents froze, turning to look at the Englishman with mixed expressions of shame (Roderich), amusement (Gilbert), and expectancy (Elizaveta). Arthur cleared his throat before continuing as reasonably as possible. "I don't mean to interrupt your... ah... discussion, however I would ask that while within my home you make an attempt to get along? At least as far as throwing things and nicking others' possessions goes." He aimed the greatest intensity of his displeasure at Gilbert. The older Beilschmidt rolled his eyes, but removed the spectacles and tossed them back at Roderich haphazardly.

"Sure thing, Eyebrows. Not my fault if the maestro here can't keep his temper in check, though." Gilbert collapsed onto the sofa his brother was occupying, Ludwig currently hiding his face in his hands and giving off every sign of embarrassment by association. Arthur felt a great swell of pity for the blonde, and resolved not to pursue the incident further as he went to retrieve the abused book from it's current place in the corner vase.

The parlour itself bears the dignity of being described at this point, the room for one thing being quite spacious, and it would have to be in order to accomodate the numerous guests. The decor was in reds, golds, and beige colours to give off a suitably vibrant atmosphere for conversation and gatherings. Entering through the door, one would see a seating area against the back wall, furnished with three long red Chesterfield sofas and seven matching armchairs arranged around a tea and biscuit laden coffee table in a manner pleasing enough to the eye, although the slightly crowded feeling caused by the sheer number of the pieces couldn't be helped. The left wall was half covered with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, as found in many of Arthur's public rooms despite his also possessing a library in the back of the house. The pianoforte sat in the corner just to the left of the doorway, next to the bookshelf, the cherrywood bench pulled out still from where Roderich had been sitting. Housed on the right wall was a fireplace, situated nearer the seating area, and closer to the door was a window that was partially obscured by the pot into which the book had been thrown. Upon glancing out this window, Arthur took the time to stoke the fire after he had retrieved the book. They would be needing of the heat if the increasingly heavy snowfall outside was any indication.

Arthur crossed the room to replace the book in it's proper position on the alphabetized bookshelf, and turned to see how his guests were faring.

This much could be said; no one had yet stooped to projectiles again. Alfred was on one of the Chesterfields, engaged in conversation with Braginski, whose frozen smile seemed to grow tighter at every happily babbled word from the American. Matthew had taken a seat slightly apart from the rest of the party, looking about nervously, and Arthur was slightly stunned when the Canadian's eyes darted briefly to Ivan and Alfred and his expression turned uncharacteristically dark. Arthur tried to determine which of the two Matthew's sudden glare was directed at, but then Matthew had caught his eye and was smiling again, giving him a shy wave. Arthur nodded, forcing a smile onto his face and pushing the discrepancy into the back of his mind. Toris and his adoptive brothers were sitting on the sofa closest to the fire, apparently struggling to get a word in edgewise with the chattering Feliks. Arthur spent a moment thinking he should like to see Feliks and Alfred get to talking sometime to find which was greater at the art of dominating a conversation. Then he fully pictured the idea and shuddered, grateful that the two were seated quite at opposite corners of the area.

Gilbert and Ludwig sat upon the center sofa, Ludwig busy speaking in low, apologetic tones to Roderich while Gilbert brazenly attempted to court Elizaveta, who appeared trapped between amusement and the urge to begin another altercation.

Arthur moved closer to his party, drawn to the two silent Asians, sipping at the provided tea. He noticed that they kept themselves in strict control, although Yao less so, his distaste was evident enough despite it not being precisely clear where he was directing it. Arthur took an educated guess that it was at the tea, a fine brand of Earl Grey, very different from the Oriental brands that they were likely accustomed to. Arthur kicked himself for not thinking to set out something more to their liking, and immediately apologized, earning a brief moment of surprise from the two before their calm demeanours were restored.

"It is quite alright, Arthur-san." Kiku said with the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "We are in England, after all, it is only natural that an English party in England would consist of English victuals." Yao nodded stiffly, though his gaze had moved elsewhere, and Arthur was too preoccupied to follow it.

"Well, all the same, I should have considered you seeing as I am the one extending the invitation. I do have some rather pleasant Chinese brands in the cellar, I'm sure my maid wouldn't find it too troublesome to fetch some for you." He assured them, already rising to go for the cords by the door that led down to the bells in the kitchen.

"What the hell is your problem!?"

Arthur's head whipped around again, eyes widening at the rare sight of a genuinely livid Gilbert Beilschmidt. Gilbert's extreme self-centeredness gave him an absurdly difficult to rouse temper, too often insults would bounce off the armor of his arrogance harmlessly or be caught and turned back on their speaker through sheer pig-headedness. However, once the damp wick sparked it wasn't long before fireworks ensued. Someone had clearly managed to set him off and, well, one look at his face was enough to tell he wasn't just shouting for the sake of being impressive, as Arthur might normally have assumed. Pale lips were drawn back in an animalistic snarl, ruby eyes glinting with ferocity, and Arthur wasn't surprised to note that the entire room seemed to have frozen when he realized the one at the receiving end of that look was none other than Ivan Braginski. Hadn't he been speaking to Alfred just moments ago? The American had not changed seats, neither did he look confused, so Gilbert must simply have joined their conversation at some point.

"Whatever is wrong, I'm sure it can be resolved!" Arthur cried, rising to his feet to play mediator once again. Perhaps this dinner party hadn't been such a brilliant idea, but it had been quite some time since he'd had one, and one must keep up social airs... excluding valued friends and acquaintances from the invitation list was hardly acceptable either, although Arthur was beginning to think that in some cases exceptions should be made whatever the expense.

"I am not understanding what it is I said wrong..." Ivan began cheerfully, not bothering to stand although Gilbert was already upright and looking more than ready to brawl despite the vast difference in size. What the devil had Braginski said?

"You don't under-!" Gilbert's volume had increased, and it appeared for a moment as if he were choking on his rage. Ludwig scrambled to diffuse the situation, moving to stand next to his brother and place a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him, but Gilbert simply shook it off, shooting a disgusted look around the room and then whirling to stomp out of the parlour. Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples, and began to excuse himself, but Ludwig stopped him.

"Please, don't trouble yourself. I'll see about what it is, I'm sure I can calm him..." Ludwig murmured, a flush of embarrassment colouring his cheeks not for the first time that evening. "I apologize for the disruption, everyone!" And the German gave a slight bow to the company at large before following his brother's exit with quick strides.

"Ugh, what _was _all that about?" Feliks spoke up from the chair he was curled upon, reminiscent of a feline in his position and expression. With his long blonde hair drawn back in a lace ribbon and his rouged cheeks, the Pole had always had an almost disturbingly effeminate air about him. Now, noticing that he'd garnered the attention of the room, he glanced away, as if indifferent. "I mean, that is, he so completely overreacted, right?" Feliks sounded much more subdued now, though no one had expressed disagreement, and he shifted uncomfortably under the combined stares.

"It was a bit odd..." Toris intervened to alleviate his companion's distress. "We ah... we shouldn't speak of it simply because they're gone now, though..." He added with a small, strained smile. "Come, Mr. Edelstein, could you not play us another song?" Roderich nodded slowly and made to exchange his chair for the bench at the pianoforte again, but he didn't quite make it.

"I'm interested, though." Matthew spoke up, and his voice was quite unusually cold. He didn't falter when he gained the floor, either, making short work of the distance between his seat and the sofa upon which his brother and Braginski were situated. "What was it you said that upset him so much?" The large Russian levelled gazes with the normally soft-spoken Canadian.

"I think that is being none of your business, da?" Ivan murmured, frost in his voice.

"Enough." Arthur stepped between them, placing a hand on Matthew's chest. For a moment the Canadian was startled, and then he nodded slightly to Arthur, averting his gaze apologetically and returning to his chair. "Toris is correct, we shouldn't be discussing such things. This is meant to be a cheerful gathering, I'm quite disappointed that things have been going somewhat less than pleasantly." The Englishman turned to face Roderich again. "Mr. Edelstein, if you would? I believe another song is indeed just what is needed." He smiled, more widely even as Roderich nodded politely and went to take his place at the piano. "Thank you. After this perhaps, if no one objects, we might abstain to the game room for a few rounds of bridge before the Vargases arrive. I recently was able to obtain some new tables of a very good quality, and the bar in there is well-stocked." The mood in the room lightened considerably at this, and Arthur was able to regain his seat beside Yao and Kiku with an inward sigh of relief.

The emotional notes of a Chopin piece swirled into the air, provoking excited whispering from Feliks to his unfortunate trio of listeners, but if Roderich noticed the disturbance in the far corner it did not show in his efficiency. The Austrian played as beautifully as ever, and it was only after a few moments of further distraction that Arthur recalled what he had been doing prior to the disturbance and turned again to the two Asians.

"I apologize, I did not realize the evening would turn so... eventful." Arthur began, but Kiku was already shaking his head gently.

"Not at all, Arthur-san. It is hardly your fault if some of your guests are beyond your control." The Japanese smiled with the utmost amiability, but Arthur couldn't help from bristling. Had there been a barb implied in that sentence...? He shook it off.

"Ah, well, at any rate I can still have your tea fetched-"

"That won't be necessary." Yao cut in smoothly. "We are quite fine with what has been provided." Arthur hesitated, but then nodded slowly. He wondered if perhaps they had been more offended by the small fiasco than they were letting on, but then, Yao had been rather short even on the previous occasions Arthur had met with him. It wasn't all that much of a mystery, if one considered the history between their two cultures, but Arthur had hoped that Yao would not blame one man for his entire country's immoral actions. Not wanting to leap to conclusions, Arthur did his best to maintain a polite air.

"You really must not think too much of it, Arthur-san. I gather it is common enough that Ivan provokes people." Kiku reassured Arthur once more, the Englishman hesitated but was forced to nod. It was true, anyone who knew Ivan could attest to that. The man just had a way of... drawing out the worst in people.

"You may have a point there..." Arthur sighed, "still, I wish it could have been otherwise, if only for one evening." Kiku tilted his head, acknowledging the statement, and Arthur let a comfortable silence fall to better hear the music.


	2. In Which The Italians Arrive

A/N: So... I've been planning on releasing chapters once a week, but I decided to let this one out a couple days early for a few reasons. Namely, it's a lot shorter than the first one, I forgot to let everyone know of the once-a-week thing in the first chapter, and lastly I know everybody's gonna want to get to the murder bit as quickly as possible, morbid little darlings that you are. So here we have it, the second chapter. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed. I still don't own Hetalia. Drat.

* * *

Chapter the Second:  
In Which The Italians Arrive (Un)Fashionably Late, With a Much Unwanted Addition:

As promised, once Roderich had finished with playing, Arthur rose with his best smile and addressed the group to relocate. As the others gathered themselves up and prepared to follow him to the game room, a distinct, frantic knocking could be heard from the front door.

"Ah, that will be the Vargas brothers." Arthur deduced, turning to the crowd. "I'll only be just a moment, do come out into the hall again, it isn't far to the game room." He nodded to them and hurried to catch the parlour door to allow the group to pass before him, then hurried past to the entryway. Arthur thought he really should have hired a butler, his last one having had to be let go due to constant napping on the job. A terrible pity, as it wasn't often he found a butler that could abide by his admittedly boisterous maid.

All consideration for the sad state of his employed help (or lack thereof) was quickly thrown out the window of his mind when he opened the front door. The greeting he'd had ready died upon his lips, replaced with a far more crude "What in the devil?" That he certainly wouldn't have let out under other circumstances. He couldn't bring himself to feel sorry though, quite the opposite as he glared at the trio on his doorstep.

"Ah- we're terribly sorry, truly!" Feliciano Vargas spoke up. "We don't want to put you out of your way at all, no no, it's just, um-" The slightly broken chatter of the younger Italian was neatly interrupted by the elder.

"This bastard drank too much and passed out on us." The outspoken Lovino growled. Where Feliciano was bright and cheerful, Lovino was ill-tempered and foulmouthed. Both gave off the impression of suffering more than a little deficit in the area of brains, however they contrived to be undoubtedly the most well connected duo in the country. If there was anyone that knew everyone, it was the Vargas brothers, and so whatever his private opinion of their behaviour, Arthur did value their friendship.

The thing that had him quite beyond disgruntled at the moment was the man hanging between them, supported entirely by his arms draped about the two Italians' shoulders and letting out the occasional inebriated giggle.

"Yes! Ah- Uncle Francis is just, that is, um... we don't wish to impose!" Feliciano continued the explanation. "Only- our carriage left and we found him coming out of the pub, the one down the street that has no pasta, and ah- we couldn't leave him, you see! It's snowing! ...Dreadfully!" This was undeniable, the blasted white stuff was coming down as thick as any rainstorm, and showed no signs of stopping. Still, Arthur knew Francis Bonnefoy, and simply making his acquaintance once was enough to condemn him. He had no desire to allow the Frenchman into his home, but he could hardly abandon any of them on his doorstep in the midst of a budding blizzard... or could he? No, no of course not. Damn.

"Oh, alright, just put him in the parlour... and if he vomits then I expect him to reimburse me fully!" Arthur waved them in moodily, and the Italians wasted no time scurrying by and down to the parlour with a torrent of babbled apologies and expressions of gratitude. Arthur closed and latched the door behind them, trying not to let his mood darken too considerably. He was supposed to be hosting a party, after all. Hopefully the unwelcome Francis would simply remain in an alcoholic coma for the duration of his stay. It figured that the wino would contrive to make a problem of himself even when uninvited, and Arthur felt that he would have to look into this pub for continuing to serve a man so clearly off his head.

Arthur rejoined his guests with his greatest apologies for the interruption, proceeding to guide them to the game room, a bright enough place although the wallpaper called for replacing as it was a tad dingy from the habit of smoking that many who passed through chose to indulge. There was a handful of brand new cardtables, two decks situated in the center of each, and a bar in the corner that was everything Arthur had promised. Braginski was the first to make for it, followed closely by Alfred, and then the Italians.

"Shall we break into groups?" Arthur began, mentally arranging the players, and then he paused. "Ah... Ludwig and Gilbert haven't returned yet..."

"Ludwig is here?" Feliciano piped up brightly from behind the bar, bouncing up with a bottle of Sangiovese. Lovino snatched it from him, scowling his displeasure at the news and pulling the cork out with his teeth. Arthur held back a wince.

"He was, but then Gil got mad about somethin' and stormed out, Lud followed and who knows from there." Alfred explained, shuffling through the various bottles. "Can I tap a keg, or is everyone going to keep with the wine?" Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but went unnoticed as Alfred proceeded to do it anyway.

"...I was going to say that I'd rather you didn't." He sighed, but relented. It was too late to stop the American, and Alfred still didn't appear to be listening. Not that this was anything new. A soft touch on his arm drew Arthur's attention to Toris.

"We can begin playing anyway." He suggested. "Gilbert and Ludwig can join a table whenever they return..."

"If they like, haven't gone home already." Feliks added, leaning against his friend's shoulder and giving the room a disinterested look. "Oh, I've been meaning to ask, did you hear the latest news about those Scandis that adopted your son?" The Polish man had leaned in suddenly with a sharp smile and a devious gleam in his eyes. Toris sighed the sigh of the long-suffering, and moved away to guide his brothers towards a table.

"...Peter was my ward, not my son." Arthur hedged, already trying to sidle away to one of the other tables, where Roderich and Elizaveta had already seated themselves. For many purposes Feliks was a gold mine of information; a valuable source to have on your side... unfortunately, this also made him a frightful gossip, and Arthur had far too many times been trapped into a frivolous conversation about the various echelons of society wherein he learned far more than he wanted to know about people whom he now had trouble looking in the face at times.

"Oh, yes." Feliks replied dismissively, oblivious or simply uncaring about the other's discomfort. "Well anyway, _I_ heard that the wife isn't a wife at all!" Arthur froze.

"I beg your pardon?" He sputtered, inadvertantly digging himself deeper into the discussion. "They do live together, and the ring on her finger is clearly displayed-"

"That's assuming 'she' is in fact a 'her' to begin with." Feliks' smile had become nothing that could be described as other than that of a cat with a canary. Arthur could only stammer numb denials, but it was pointless. If there was one redeeming quality to Feliks' habit of gossip, it was that he never spread anything baseless or unresearched, and his information was very seldom incorrect. "Come on, I'll tell you more about it during the game." And with that Arthur found himself being dragged to the table with Arthur and Elizaveta. Matthew and Alfred had taken seats across from Kiku and Yao, respectively, at the third table, and Ivan had assumed the fourth seat at the table of the Baltic brothers, much to their dismay. Lovino sat at the bar, steadily going the same way as his uncle, while Feliciano flitted about the room with a glass of wine that seemed almost to refill itself. Until the Beilschmidts returned, the fourth table remained unused, and the Italians unoccupied.

It was quite a few games (and glasses) later that the party was interrupted by the door slamming open and a red-faced Ludwig with damp hair stomped in. His expression was not unlike the one his brother had worn earlier.

"Ah... we had thought you went home." Arthur began, feeling not-so-oddly meek in the face of that... face.

"_Nein_." Ludwig snapped, the mixture of the sharp tone and his native tongue a very dark indicator of his foul mood. "There was no carriage or messenger to be summoned, not in this weather. And the front door was locked when we returned from our walk." Arthur paled, remembering now how he had latched the door behind the Italians, no doubt distracted by his displeasure at their having dragged the Frenchman in with them. He fought with the idea of whether or not to apologize, shifting with guilt but not wanting to incur the German's wrath...

"Hang on, how'd you get in then?" Alfred questioned suddenly, only a slight pink glow to his cheeks betraying the effects of his alcohol consumption. Arthur wondered vaguely if he'd had a little too much himself, that _Alfred _had realized such an obvious point first... Arthur did love Alfred, enough that he was a tad scared of his own emotions at times, but intelligence was not high on the youth's list of virtues.

"Hullo!" A cheerful tan face framed by chocolate pigtails peeked around Ludwig, closely followed by the rest of a petite islander girl in a pretty blue dress.

"Chelle!" Arthur immediately stood, Ludwig stepping aside to allow for more room. "What are you doing up? Didn't I say you were to stay in your room for tonight?" The girl pouted, raising a hand to examine her nails and affecting a casual air.

"_Oui_. But I couldn't sleep, it is not late at all! And I heard the loudest pounding on the front door, it's a wonder you didn't hear it, and when I went to have a look there was this fellow and his brother!" She explained, ending with a small giggle and then adding, "Mr. Gilbert was so chilled by that time that he went into the parlour to sit by the fire for a while."

Arthur sighed and took her hand, it couldn't be helped. Turning to his company he cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look until she dropped a neat curtsey.

"Might I present my adopted daughter, Rochelle." He announced, receiving a few polite nods, and a jaunty wave from Alfred.

"Oh, she's such a lovely girl! Why _have _you kept her hidden, Arthur?" Elizaveta demanded, beckoning the girl over. Arthur tried to keep a grip on her, but the dainty hand was slipped away before his fingers could tighten and Chelle was bounding over to the Hungarian woman.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am!" She chirped, "Dad just likes to keep me all cooped up. He says I'm too young and impressionable to be mingling with society just yet, but I'm sure it's because society just isn't ready for _me_."

"I like her!" Alfred exclaimed with a laugh, "you always get the most outspoken kids, Artie!" Arthur blanched at the nickname, mentally noting that Alfred was not to be allowed any more alcohol this evening.

"Can I stay? Oh, please say I can!" Chelle was at once by Arthur's side again, tugging on his sleeve with a pleading expression. "I'm already here, and I'll behave, I will!" Arthur stood strong for all of thirty seconds before those wide doe eyes decimated the last of his defenses. He slumped slightly and patted the girl on her head.

"Very well, but only if you do not disturb anyone! I mean it, one toe out of line and it's straight back to your room with you." He informed her. Chelle beamed, pecked him on the cheek, and raced back to begin chatting with Elizaveta as though they'd known each other for years, Feliks entering the conversation moments later. Arthur felt rather as though he'd been had.

"Arthur, you go play a round with Ludwig and the Vargases!" Elizaveta called, as brazen as ever, and were she any other woman in any other company than surely her audacity would be met with shock. To be sure, Yao and Kiku, being relatively new additions, were looking quite stunned and (in Yao's case) disapproving. However to the rest of them, it was simply Elizaveta's character. She was a force of nature, and to attempt to place her in any position or definition to which she did not wish to be placed would result in any number of unpleasantries for the would-be perpetrators. "Chelle shall join our game, at least until Gilbert feels dry enough to come in."

"Yes, yes, very well." Arthur consented with an impatient sigh, taking his new seat without complaint. Feliciano bounced over happily, immediately taking the opposite chair and beckoning for Ludwig to sit next to him. The German hesitated for a moment, but took the invitation nonetheless, which left Lovino to wander over with an air of surliness and plop down into the seat beside Arthur, a scowl on his face and a glass in his hand. A new round started up, although at the table Arthur had left there seemed to be more chatting than playing. Rochelle had utterly charmed both Elizaveta and Feliks, and Roderich was tolerantly listening to their animated conversation that was likely as not a mere lot of foppery.

The groups played for a while longer, Yao and Kiku consistently winning against the North American brothers despite being quite probably new to the game. Ivan and Raivis were, oddly enough, losing almost as consistently to the other two Baltic men. Arthur found his group surprisingly well matched, and as for the last table... well, his suspicions that more conversation than gaming was going on proved to be correct, not that anyone seemed to mind terribly.

"I shall go check that the dining hall is ready." Arthur announced when the rather audible sound of a stomach grumbling caused Lovino to blush tomato-red. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. There are washrooms down the hall, and you are of course free to explore. I shall return shortly." He stood and swept a polite bow to his guests, exiting the room at a quick pace and making his way to the kitchens first to ascertain that the food preparation was going well. Yongsoo assured him that he knew the recipe quite well, as it had originated in his homeland after all. Arthur was disinclined to believe this, considering the recipe for roast beast was one that had been passed down in his own family for years, but a quick sampling of the dish proved that it was perfectly prepared regardless, and he was satisfied.

"You did set the table though, didn't you?" He verified, already heading for the door that connected the kitchen to the dining room.

"Ah, yes! Of course!" Yongsoo bounced on his heels happily. "It's all nice and ready!" He clapped his hands and turned back to the meal, looking far more perky than Arthur thought someone who worked so hard should really be.

"Well, thank you then." He nodded, always feeling a bit awkward when he spoke to Yongsoo. He proceeded to look over the dining room anyway, and once he was sure it was all up to scratch he went to find his guests. He ran into Matthew in the hallway again, quite literally this time, and it was only the Canadian's hand braced quickly against the wall that kept them both from falling to the floor.

"Alright there, Arthur?" Matthew asked, notably less cheerful than he'd been earlier despite the faint flush of alcohol in his cheeks. Arthur nodded, flushed for an entirely different reason, and straightened himself quickly.

"Yes, ah, my apologies... this seems to keep happening." He took a shot at a joking tone, and Matthew grinned a little, so Arthur thought he must have been successful. Ludwig appeared in the hall at that moment, stepping out of the game room and smoothing his hair back with a hand. He nodded politely to the two.

"Ah, you returned quickly," he commented, "though, I'm afraid not quickly enough. We've split up pretty thoroughly. I think I saw someone step out for some air, a few people went to the loo, I'm not sure about everyone though." Arthur sighed, resigning himself to a bit of a chore.

"We could help you find everyone." Matthew offered, then seemed to realize his presumption. "Ah, I mean, I'm willing to, I don't mean to speak for Mr. Beilschmidt-"

"It's quite alright." Ludwig assured him quickly, a hand raised in placation. "I'd be more than happy to help."

"Thank you, that would be most appreciated." Arthur smiled. "Is there anyone left in the game room?" Ludwig nodded, opening the door to step back inside with a murmur that he'd inform them, and Matthew volunteered to check the parlour, which left Arthur to look through the few other sitting rooms on this floor, and the library while waiting for those that had gone into the washrooms to re-emerge.

Unfortunately, Arthur hadn't taken more than a few steps down the hallway before an incredibly loud scream cut through the air, and he found himself whipping around and racing for the source before he'd even registered who the voice belonged to.

* * *

A/N: Everybody loves a cliffhanger, right? ...Right?  
...See you next Tuesday, chaps.


	3. In Which Dinner Is Allowed to Go Cold

A/N: SO UH... I TOTALLY FORGOT TO PUT THE CHAPTER UP... I BLAME LACK OF SLEEP UH... herehaveitafewhourslate... ...Happy St. Patty's Day.  
Finally the part everyone's been waiting for~

Disclaimer: Still don't own Hetalia. Still not making money.

Chapter the Third: In Which Dinner is Allowed to Go Cold

It must have been Matthew, Arthur realized, because his body had led him directly to the parlour, and when he flung the door open the Canadian was the first thing to meet his flustered gaze. The change that had taken over the blond youth in what had surely been mere seconds was astonishing. Matthew had been pale beforehand, but now his complexion was positively ghostly, and his expression was so stricken that Arthur might have gone so far as to say Matthew had aged a few years. Without a thought as to the rest of the room, Arthur immediately crossed the distance between them to grab hold of Matthew's shoulder, hoping to snap him out of his horrified expression.

"Matthew! Matthew, my God, man, whatever is the matter?" Arthur demanded, worry hastening his words and making them sound harsh. Matthew simply gaped for a few moments, eyes fixed on something over by the sitting area, but a quick shake had his lavender eyes snapping to Arthur. His gaze was unfocused however, and Arthur thought it would be quite apt to say Matthew looked as though he had seen a ghost.

"W-wha?" He stammered for a moment, gaze flickering back and forth like the flame of a dying candle. At last, words failing, he simply pointed, and Arthur turned to look, wondering what could possibly have rendered such-

Oh. Well, yes, that would about do it.

Arthur thought he must look quite a bit like Matthew at the moment, feeling his jaw slacken as a cold horror slithered up his spine like some malevolent reptile. Emerald eyes traced a figure slumped forward in one of the armchairs, arms hanging over the sides limply, vacant gaze aimed at a lap where blood pooled in the folds of coat that Braginski never took off. Ivan's formidable form was considerably less impressive in death, mouth agape in what had doubtless been a cry of surprise, though it was no wonder that no one had heard it, if the oozing hole in his neck was any indication. The man's windpipe or his vocal chords must have been struck, the disabling of either would explain the lack of a final outcry. It was obvious at a glance that whatever had been used to puncture the Russian's neck had gone through-and-through, and then been pulled out again, as the imperfect shape of the wound and the absence of any scent of gunpowder suggested it could not have been from a bullet. Of course even besides this, if a gun had gone off, doubtless the entire house would have heard it.

"Who..." Arthur began, his voice hoarse yet nevertheless ringing obscenely loudly in his ears. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat once or twice, licking dry lips before he tried to continue, but he didn't get the chance. Ludwig had burst through the door at that moment precisely, slightly breathless, and unlike Arthur he immediately traced the cause of all the commotion. The German simply froze and blinked a few times, then straightened and immediately began scanning the room with a sharp scrutiny. He wasn't the last, not by a longshot, for Kiku and Yao turned out to be right behind him, neither giving any more of a reaction than a slight widening of the eyes, although Yao quickly excused himself and disappeared into the hallway again. Elizaveta, Feliks, and Toris appeared next, following a curious Rochelle, whom the Hungarian woman immediately pulled back.

"I think perhaps it is your bedtime, Chelle." She stated firmly, giving the girl a warning look that didn't seem to deter her from opening her mouth to protest.

"But, I want to see! I am old enough!" Chelle pleaded, trying to tug out of the older woman's grasp, "I cannot go to sleep now, not when everyone is so excited! What is going on?" Elizaveta hushed her unsuccessfully, but did manage to herd the girl away, heading for the stairs and likely aiming to get her back to her bedroom. Arthur's dazed mind made a mental note to thank Elizaveta for this consideration later, when things had settled down. Eduard and Raivis stepped in then, though they swiftly disappeared again as Raivis went green and dashed back towards the nearest lavatory, a concerned Eduard hot on his heels.

Gilbert and Roderich were the last to arrive on the scene, practically dragging the Italian brothers with them. Lovino was putting up a surly front, although it failed to cover the fact that he was trying to slink away, and Feliciano wasn't even bothering to hide his frightened shaking. Clearly neither of the two found the idea of moving _towards _a terrified scream to their liking, but surprisingly they both calmed when they saw the scene for themselves and ascertained that there was no immediate danger apparent. At least, Arthur surmised that was the conclusion they came to, he himself was having thoughts in quite the opposite direction. Someone had been murdered in his home, during his party! And it could quite literally be anyone here. Ivan had clearly been dead for several minutes at least, and Arthur had been in the kitchens at that time. He could vouch for none of his guests as of yet, and he knew if he didn't start getting alibis soon he could quite possibly go crazy. It became apparent within moments that he wasn't the only one having thoughts of this nature, as Ludwig took charge with a brusque call for attention.

"First things first! Someone must notify the police immediately!" He barked, earning several admiring glances for his ability to keep such a cool head.

"Yes, yes of course, I shall do so at once." Arthur consented, moving shakily towards the hallway, but Kiku stopped him with a delicate wave of his hand.

"It is quite alright, Arthur-san. Yao-san has already gone to do so, that is why he left the room." The Japanese man assured him, and Arthur could only nod numbly as the explanation registered somewhere in the back of his mind. This whole business was striking him as exceedingly surreal. Arthur felt as though he were moving through a sort of fog, his reaction time slowed considerably and his senses dulled and hazy. He wasn't the only one, Matthew was still standing in the same place he had been, gaze riveted on the corpse. Toris didn't appear to be functioning properly either, and Feliks was shooting strange, shifty looks around the room, as if he expected to be attacked himself at any second. Roderich was leaning against the wall, but he appeared more simply stunned than disturbed, and the only apparent change in Gilbert was that he was being as stoic as his brother was under normal circumstances.

"Right, that is being taken care of then." Ludwig nodded, satisfied, "then we must none of us touch the body in any way. We should locate the others as quickly as possible and assemble in another room." Arthur was jarred out of his reverie by this proclamation, instantly taking stock of the guests again, this time to see who was missing. Elizaveta had gone to return Chelle to her bed, of course, and Eduard and Raivis were doubtless still preoccupied in the bathroom, but also not present were, worryingly, Alfred and...

"That bloody frog!" Arthur hissed, although he didn't for a moment think that Francis could have done this. The Frenchman may have been arrogant, perverse, and annoying beyond all reason, but he was no murderer. It was also quite inconceivable that he should have been able to kill anyone, let alone someone of Ivan's stature, while so deeply intoxicated as he obviously had been. Still, his absence was just one more factor that was going to add to Arthur's developing headache, and that was definitely something to curse over.

"Ve...!" Feliciano made a sound of alarm. "U-Uncle Francis...! Where could he have gone!?" The Italian suddenly began darting about the room, peeking under the couches and behind the piano, and even moving over to the dying fire as if he thought Francis might have somehow become fireproof and climbed up the chimney. Luckily his brother caught a hold of him before he did anything so foolish as sticking his head in the grate to have a look, and pulled him back towards the door and the rest of the group.

"Hey if you're worried about Francis, I saw him in here when I came to warm up by the fire earlier." Gilbert spoke up, uncharacteristically solemn. "He was passed out on that sofa," he indicated the piece of furniture in the center of the back wall, "sleeping off his wine or whatever, definitely. He probably just woke up and got lost on the way to get rid of some of the stuff, if you know what I mean." Feliciano stared blankly, clearly not knowing what Gilbert meant. "To go to the bathroom." The Prussian clarified with only the tiniest roll of his eyes, mild affection hinted at in his expression.

"Oh..." Feliciano said quietly, "but then, where is he now...?"

"Yao and I were in the lavatory, and I believe Toris-san and the ladies were occupying the others. I did not see any Francis, but perhaps one of them did?" Kiku interjected reasonably. Ludwig nodded, assuming the leadership position again.

"Right, we should be sure to ask them about it. In the meantime, let us adjourn to one of the other sitting rooms, if Arthur doesn't mind?" Ludwig turned to their host. Arthur cleared his throat matter of factly.

"Ah... yes, of course. That is... you had better follow me. One moment, I shall lock the room to... preserve the evidence, as it were." Arthur took quick strides to the fireplace, where he took a key from beneath a figurine on the mantle. As he turned back however, a particularly violent wind caused the window to burst open, and there was a great rush to fetch it shut once more. Arthur found himself holding the window closed firmly as it rattled while Matthew bent to put on the latch. "That's odd, why should the window be unlocked..." Arthur murmured, but as there was a body to be dealt with and two of his guests yet to be found, the matter was mentally set aside shortly enough.

Yao, Eduard, and Raivis rejoined them as Arthur led the group for a separate sitting room, this one less impressive as it was crammed with some of his older furnishings, but at least there were enough seats for everyone, the only other rooms without a body in it that could accomodate the entire group were the game room and the dining room. Arthur hardly thought the game room was the proper setting at the moment, and the dining room would only remind them of dinner, which due to the roiling nausea in his stomach Arthur was only too happy to skip at the moment. Before entering the sitting room, they passed the stairway and were greeted with the sight of Elizaveta peeking over the railing from the landing above.

"Ah! There you all are. I just wanted to let you know, I think it best if I remain with Rochelle in her room until the police arrive..." The Hungarian woman trailed off, fixing Arthur, as the host, with a reproving stare. "You _have _called the police, haven't you?" Arthur faltered slightly, then bristled, but he didn't get the chance to reply before Yao interceded.

"I have." The Chinese man responded, voice pitched to carry across the distance without losing any of its silken quality. "The line was dead. There is a blizzard, it is likely interfering with the connection. We may have to wait for it to blow over before we can call any authorities." There was a deep set silence after this statement, surely the same dark thoughts were swirling through everyone's mind... well, perhaps, everyone save one...

"Very well." Elizaveta appeared to sigh, though it wasn't easily heard from the ground floor. "I still believe I should stay with Rochelle. I have been with her since the game room, so I have that as my alibi, but if it doesn't suffice than someone should come up to get me." No one contradicted her, so she simply nodded and made to disappear again.

"Ah, Madame, you wouldn't happen to have seen a Frenchman roundabouts the lavatories?" Toris called up before she could completely vanish, and Elizaveta stuck her head over the banister again to reply in the negative, and then returned presumably to watch over the young Rochelle. Arthur thought he really would have to hire a governess or something, Elizaveta was proving that one would be extremely useful. Then again, he hardly expected murders to spring up often in his home... although he hadn't thought they would happen _at all_ here before tonight.

"Liz is a terror after her own fashion," Gilbert broke in, disturbing Arthur's contemplation, once it was certain Elizaveta was out of earshot, "but it'd take more upper body strength than she's got, or some real finesse to slam something all the way through _that _giant's throat. Even if she hadn't got an alibi, I wouldn't think she'd have done it."

"We should discuss this further once we are seated." Ludwig suggested before another conversation could progress, although the group seemed to agree with Gilbert. The blond German nodded at Arthur to lead the way again, which he did. Moments later they were situated more or less comfortably, Arthur glad that Yong Soo had evidently found time to clean the place at least, even if it was a bit outdated and crowded in decor. Then again, the style of the furniture hardly mattered at a time such as this, he reflected practically.

"It couldn't have been Francis." Arthur announced, breaking a period of silence that had stretched expectantly for several minutes, everyone waiting to hear what everyone else might say. The suspicion in the room was almost tangible, and the tension was stretched taut enough that cutting it with a knife would have sent it snapping back like a rubber band. The Italians at least looked gratified by his statement.

"That's right! Francis was a bit of a bastard," Lovino declared, much to Arthur's satisfaction although the language did draw sharp looks of disapproval from Yao and Roderich, "but he would never do anything like that." He finished decisively.

"More importantly than that," Arthur continued, "I saw him when he was brought in. The man was completely hammered, I wouldn't have trusted him to find his _own _throat to stab, let alone someone else's." There were reluctant murmurs of understanding, that was one more suspect they didn't have to consider at least. However, if anything, the resolution had only worsened the suspicious airs... after all, if it clearly wasn't Francis, Elizaveta, or Rochelle... that left only the still missing Alfred, or someone in the room.

"This is ridiculous." Roderich protested suddenly. "It was probably some sort of intruder- even if it wasn't, the police will handle this. We should all be heading home where we will be safe." He shot Arthur an arch look. "It's all very well to talk of who could or couldn't have done it, but it isn't our place to find out, is it? I personally-"

"It couldn't have been an intruder." Matthew interrupted, completely oblivious to the glare Roderich directed at him. The Canadian looked a million miles away, eyes fixed somewhere on the ceiling, slumped in his chair as if he'd just returned from running a marathon or some other such arduous task.

"Um... wait, so... like... what makes you say that?" Feliks questioned softly, the shyness he usually tried to cover with bold behavior making itself known in the nerve-wracking atmosphere. Matthew didn't even look at him, his gaze never left the ceiling, and Arthur gave into the urge to shoot a quick glance up to see what could be so fascinating, but it looked like the same ceiling it had always been, to him.

"First of all," Matthew began, "in case you missed it, there's a blizzard going on outside. A pretty bad one." He sat up straighter now, and when he noticed that the attention of everyone was on him he suddenly froze, a light blush spreading across his features. Matthew was used to fading into the background but... well, clearly this was a night of abnormalities. "Um... that is, I don't think... any robbers, even desperate ones, would be running around out there tonight... and-and about going home, well... I don't think any of us are getting hansoms in this weather either, and walking would er- well... I don't think I have to tell you it... wouldn't be... a good idea..." His voice grew steadily more quiet as he went on, eventually fading away. Several of the group took a look out the single window in the room, a round one fixed high on the wall, and it was obvious even from this distance that the closest thing to a whiteout Britain would ever see was going on outside. Raivis let out a wail suddenly and turned to bury his face in Eduard's shirt, trembling uncontrollably as Eduard floundered to comfort him with shushing noises and pats on the back.

"I d-d-don't want t-to d-diiiieee!" Raivis stuttered, barely comprehensible. Eduard wiped at his little brother's face with a handkerchief, and not for the first time Arthur wondered if Raivis might be a few years younger than he claimed, or perhaps he simply suffered from some mental sensitivity... in all likelihood it was both, though the latter was looking more and more like the case.

"Calm _down_, boy! No one is... well, no one _else _is going to die." Arthur sighed raggedly, "we shall simply have to find Alfred and Bonnefoy and wait out the storm. I have plenty of spare rooms upstairs, I'm sure everyone will be accomodated." It felt good to be in control again, this was his house after all, he _should _be the one calling the shots.

"Oh, yes," Gilbert snorted, and Arthur's temper spiked before he even heard the man's next words, "I suppose we'll all feel nice and snug knowing that one of us could go Jack the Ripper on the others at any moment." Arthur was certain he wasn't the only one who shivered at that name, but there wasn't even the faintest possibility... they were literally miles from Whitechapel, and this wasn't the way the infamous killer operated at all. Besides, the murders attributed to the Ripper had ceased some time ago. Still, it was most decidedly _not _a pleasant name to hear at the moment, all things considered.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Arthur snapped, refusing to show any hint of panic. "It is most probable that whoever murdered Ivan had motive, so it stands to reason that he was the only target. Even if it was one of us- and I'm not saying it was!- the danger is passed now, surely." A sort of hopeful pause followed this. Even if there were logical arguments against such a deduction, they all _wanted _to believe they were safe. Gilbert was the only one to shake his head, his hackles clearly still raised.

"I should think you would have the least to worry, Beilschmidt-san." Heads snapped around to center on Kiku, who was giving Gilbert a steady, calculating gaze. The Prussian did not take this well, something resembling a low growl curling his lips into a sneer.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" He snarled viciously, but the Japanese man didn't so much as bat an eyelash, merely inclined his head thoughtfully before replying in an even tone.

"Nothing. I simply observed that you were one of the last ones in the parlour alone, and you certainly seemed quite angry earlier." He said simply, and despite the words themselves there was nothing accusatory in his tone or face. It didn't stop Gilbert from shooting up out of his seat, and he wasn't the only one distressed. Ludwig had stepped forward to stand between his brother and the Asian ambassador, and there was a faint sound of annoyance that Arthur couldn't seem to place.

"I don't like what you're implying." The younger Beilschmidt said simply, tone a deep, low warning, but otherwise his stance and expression were as steadfast as Kiku's.

"I would not expect you to." Kiku replied, "however as things stand, you have to admit that it would appear there are questions..." and suddenly Gilbert found himself the receptor of a handful of very crucifying stares. Raivis was still hiding his face in Eduard's shirt, Feliks was huddled in the corner staring at the floor, and Roderich had a strange, conflicted expression. Eduard, Toris, and Yao however were all looking at Gilbert as if he'd already confessed, even Matthew was giving him a blank, horrifed stare. Arthur himself had a strange, disturbed feeling about it... after all, it was possible. They'd all seen Gilbert's explosion earlier, and there was yet to be an alibi established for him...

Could it really have been Gilbert? He certainly had the means, the motive, and perhaps even the opportunity...


	4. In Which a Search Party Becomes

A/N: So here I am, uploading the new chapter at an ungodly hour yet again... ugh, bad me... the truth is, I ran out of buffer chapters and had to finish this one up as quickly as I could. As a result it might be a bit messier than the others, but I did my best. =3=7

Hopefully I'll have chapter 5 finished on time to stick to my 'Once a week' schedule, but I'm terribly lazy so... here's hoping!

Disclaimer: Still don't own Hetalia.

* * *

Chapter 4: In Which a Search Party Becomes Unnecessary

* * *

It was enough to make Arthur's stomach turn, but the more he considered it, the more likely it seemed. Gilbert being the killer made sense, in a way, and if Arthur was going to be completely honest, well... the Prussian was his friend, and Gilbert had proved himself a loyal, if obnoxious, comrade many a time. However, Arthur couldn't help but think that if Gilbert was the murderer, it would mean that Alfred _wasn't_, and that was a monumental relief. One that eased a tightness in Arthur's chest that he really didn't want to examine too closely. Gilbert was, for his part, looking positively livid, and Ludwig had a stony set to his jaw that indicated he was prepared to defend his brother, innocent or not, against any attack. Which was definitely an abysmal turn of events, since Arthur would really rather have had the German on their side.

"...Gilbert, I'm sorry but I think maybe we should shut you up in one of the spare rooms. Just until the police arrive." Arthur began slowly, as Ludwig tensed he hurried on. "I'm just saying we should keep him locked in, I'm not asking that we beat him or anything! It's just a precaution." Ludwig hesitated and Gilbert noticed, if the panic that flared in his red eyes was any indication.

"Fuck no!" He abandoned any form of propriety he may have been upholding, but then it was Gilbert, so the outburst was hardly unexpected. "You are not locking me up! I didn't kill the asshole, and you can't pin this on me!"

"Gilbert, we're just trying to-" Arthur started again, forcing his tone to remain reasonable even though he was speaking through clenched teeth, but he was abruptly cut off.

"He was with me!"

Heads turned fast enough to cause whiplash, and Roderich stiffened under the combined sets of eyes, but held himself with the same dignity as ever as he elaborated, "we were arguing again, if you must know. However, much as I find it distasteful, I can vouch for his innocence... in this sense, at least." The Austrian saturated his words with arrogance that would make any noble proud. "I did not wish to admit to being in yet another... 'debate' this evening with Herr Beilschmidt, however as it seems you would otherwise be set on placing the blame on the wrong party, I really must protest." Arthur blinked and attention returned to Gilbert.

"Is this so...?" The Englishman asked, though he couldn't see any reason Roderich would say it if it wasn't. Gilbert just rolled his eyes as he retorted, clearly still infuriated.

"_Ja_, I was with the fop. Not that anyone thought to ask before you went and tried to make me out as the murderer." He huffed. "Thanks a lot West, by the way." Ludwig had the grace to look sheepish, though he did make an effort to defend himself despite the light flush of shame on his cheeks.

"It... sounded like a reasonable suggestion. I didn't really think you had done it, _bruder_." He attempted to placate the elder of the two. Gilbert just sighed and waved a hand, the closest Ludwig was likely to get to a statement of forgiveness, and it seemed to suffice. Silence once more settled over those gathered.

"What next...?" Toris' voice held only the faintest of tremors as he broke the pause this time, and there was a determined glint in his eyes that proclaimed he had himself under control. He also happened to be gripping Feliks' hand. Which of them it was meant to comfort wasn't clear, as Feliks still seemed to be having trouble meeting anyone's gaze, although his eyes flicked up now and again to take a quick surveillance of the others and if perhaps his gaze rested on one person longer than anyone else, Arthur failed to note it.

"We find Alfred." The Englishman stated decisively, then added as practically an afterstatement, "and Francis, of course. We must do that first of all." Looks were exchanged, and there was a feeling of trepidation, but no one directly argued the proclamation and Arthur nodded, satisfied. "I happen to have a fairly large home, as it were... so I would suggest splitting up. Pairs or trios, of course, it would not do to be running about helter-skelter each on one's own."

"That makes sense enough." Eduard was the one to respond this time, having at last quieted Raivis' delicate whimpers, although the petite Latvian was still shaking like a mouse in a cat's paws, and twice as jumpy. 'On edge' could not begin to act as a sufficient description. "I'll search with Raivis, of course..." He added needlessly.

"We will partner." Yao announced as well, his tone allowing for no argument as he rose and gestured for Kiku to stand with him. The Japanese did with a gesture of assent, and Matthew appeared to have drifted closer to Eduard and Raivis.

"I'll uh... come with you two, eh? He seems pretty scared so..." The Canadian offered kindly, and Eduard gave him a grateful smile and a nod. Toris kept hold of Feliks' hand, although the Pole kept shooting looks over at Kiku and Yao, and opened his mouth a few times as though to say something, though he didn't.

"Me and Feliciano are partnering!" Lovino declared, yanking on Feli's sleeve when the Italian looked ready to protest, shooting longing glances at Ludwig. It was no wonder, either. The German was easily the most formidable of the lot, at least in appearance, and would likely serve as the best protection. Still, Lovi was adamant on pairing with his brother, and Arthur was quick to step up to the younger Beilschmidt as he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of spending an inordinate amount of time alone with either Gilbert or Roderich, for what should be obvious reasons. This left the aforementioned only each other to partner with, which was in and of itself a bad idea, but Arthur had other concerns at the moment.

"Right then, we'll each of us go a different direction, surely it won't take terribly long to find Alfred and Francis, so let us say we shall meet back here in precisely one hour." The Englishman suggested, a proposition that was met with general approval. "Oh... I almost forgot, I'll need to inform the cook that dinner will have to be put in the icebox..." The reminder of food was apparently enough to make at least Feliciano's stomach rumble, although most of the others seemed to share Arthur's ruined appetite.

"We'll head there first, then." Ludwig said decisively, and went on to be the first to tug open the door and lead the way into the hall... or, that was what he _meant _to do, at least. His plans were rather spoiled when the door suddenly slammed open with incredible force, crashing violently into the wall and almost taking Ludwig's extended hand with it, though the German managed to snatch the appendage back just in the nick of time.

"DON'T WORRY! I'M HERE!" Arthur had been standing next to Ludwig, so the bellow hit him right in the ears, and he immediately clapped his hands to his head with a wince. Damn, now his headache was giving off the warning signs of turning into a migraine... still, despite the pain, Arthur felt an incredible ocean of relief flood his chest.

Alfred stood in the doorway. He looked damp and windblown, and his cheeks were flushed, but he was clearly unharmed.

"Uh..." Matthew broke the ensuing silence. "Where the hell have you been, Al? We were just about to go looking for you!" Alfred walked forward with a grave expression and set his hands on his brother's shoulders, causing Matthew's expression to change from exasperated relief to deep concern. Alfred rarely looked so serious...

"Matty, this may shock you but..." Alfred took a deep breath, the room hung on his every word. "There has been a murder. Someone killed that Ivan guy."

If there was anything that could have brought the tension in the room crashing down, that was it. Roderich let out a snort of laughter on reflex, then slapped a hand over his mouth, flushing in mortification and mumbling apologies. Ludwig was just staring at Alfred, his stance screaming disbelief that anyone could be so thick.

"You-you moron!" Arthur stammered, furious at Alfred for his obliviousness. "We already knew that! Why the devil do you think we're in here!?"

"Uh... I..." Alfred had the grace to appear sheepish, but only momentarily. "Well how was I supposed to know!"

"You were gone for quite a while! How could we not have noticed?" Arthur snapped, his anger only growing at the American's bewilderment. How could Alfred be this self-centered!?

"Hey shouldn't we be focusing on the more important thing?" Alfred retorted defensively, and Arthur crossed his arms, glaring as venemously as he could. It was even worse that Alfred should actually be talking sense in his state. Arthur fought the urge to grind his teeth, as he knew that Alfred actually had a point for once. There were more important matters at hand; finding out what had happened to Francis, for example.

"Jones is right about that much," Ludwig said, obviously having thoughts along the same lines, "now that we've found him we should be focusing on-" And yet another interruption lengthened the growing list of them that evening. Alfred had always been somewhat of a glory hog... he didn't really intend to be rude, he was just one of those people so accustomed to living life in the spotlight that they didn't think anything of usurping the command position in any and all situations.

"Bringing the murderer to justice!" Alfred interrupted with a triumphant grin, punching a fist into the palm of his other hand. His cheer was so out of place under the circumstances that it was a good few minutes before anyone recovered from the displacement enough to respond to the enthusiastic declaration. Matthew was hiding his face in his hands, and Arthur sympathized with the action, rather tempted to do so himself, really... Alfred was still a child in so many ways, it was hard not to be embarrassed for him at times, since he certainly never seemed to feel said emotion for himself.

"...First we would have to find out who the murderer _is_, though, Mr. Alfred..." Toris pointed out reasonably. "And besides being very unsafe, we do not have any method to be completely certain about that..."

"What are you talking about? I know exactly who it is!" Alfred exclaimed, eliciting more than one sharp intake of breath around the room. "It was the butler!"

"...What." Arthur was mildly horrified that he'd ended up chorusing the statement with Gilbert, of all people, but that was the least of his current concerns. "Alfred, that- you- that's so ridiculous I don't even know what to say!"

"Oh come on, it's always the butler!" Alfred said, with such conviction that the small part of Arthur that had hoped it was a distasteful joke promptly shriveled and died.

"This isn't a murder story, you moron." Matthew stated with the practiced patience of an experienced sibling to an imbecile. Arthur was fairly certain Matthew had spoken the words everyone had been thinking, albeit in a much more calm and reasonable manner than the actual thoughts of many of them. Alfred looked highly affronted that his 'irrefutable logic' had been... refuted.

"It's the same basic principle!" He protested stubbornly, crossing his arms and taking on an expression that Arthur would have described as 'pouting' on Rochelle. On Alfred it was... still pouting, actually, although the American would probably deny it until his face turned blue from oxygen deprivation. Arthur was disturbed to note that the slightly protruding lower lip made Alfred look just a little too sultry, or at least it was definitely giving Arthur some... less than legal thoughts. Most disconcerting. Arthur shook his head in hopes to dislodge the ridiculous notions, and prayed that the flush on his face would be taken for one of exclusively anger.

"No, it is not." Yao spoke this time, his sharp glare and dead-even tone enough to derail Alfred for a few moments. "Even if it were, the foremost thing, even in stories, that is needed to condemn a murderer is... motive." Alfred looked thoughtful.

"Oh yeah..." He muttered, then looked back to Arthur curiously, "hey Artie, why would your butler want to kill Ivan?" The question may as well have been a cold bucket of water over the Englishman's libido, and he felt a strange mixture of relief, disappointment, and renewal of heavy exasperation. Arthur pressed his hands to his temples and rubbed, working hard to keep from shouting, although an inordinate amount of his irritation did leak into his voice as he replied.

"I don't have a butler, currently." He stated flatly. The best description for Alfred's reaction would be 'crestfallen.' The American literally appeared to deflate at the words, the pout evolving into a disheartened sulk. Arthur sighed, his anger melting away despite his best efforts. A grown man really shouldn't be allowed to look so... endearing.

"You really are just an overgrown child." Arthur said, but it was with a sort of tired affection that had Alfred deepening his sulk rather than retorting. "At any rate, we really should be getting back to the important issue- which is in fact the matter of locating Bonnefoy. Preferably this shall be done _before _he manages to empty his stomach on one of my carpets."

"Better be quick then, that bastard drank way too much this time..." Lovino grumbled, Feliciano nodding worriedly beside him.

"I'll partner with Alfred, we can search-" Matthew began, but his brother had tapped him on the shoulder, drawing his attention away. "What? What is it?" Alfred glanced around the room, then whispered something with an inquiring air into Matthew's ear. "What? Yes, Bonnefoy is the blond guy that came in with the Ital- what? What is this about?" Alfred stepped back again with a serious nod.

"I think I'd better tell you guys where I was." He said gravely, and somehow, this time, Arthur didn't think there was going to be a ridiculous outburst following the announcement. Unfortunately, he and Matthew seemed to be the only ones that had picked up on the genuine air this time.

"Oh come on, we've wasted enough time as it is!" Gilbert groaned, leaning against a wall as if exhausted, although he'd displayed his normal level of vitality only moments before. Now he was glaring between Alfred and the door to the room, as though either or both was the source of his current anguish. Roderich and Ludwig clearly shared his disapproval, the desire to ignore the American and simply leave for the search more than evident.

"W-we need to find Uncle Francis... can't we hear your story later?" Feliciano piped up in a much less aggressive tone than Gilbert's, but from the way he was bouncing on his heels he was obviously no less anxious to move on. Toris had already helped Feliks out of his chair, and he and his brothers were obviously planning on slipping out under the distraction as they padded around the group towards the door.

"I know where the guy you're looking for is." Alfred's uncharacteristically calm declaration had everyone arresting in their places once more. Arthur was certain that the American was being honest, although the Germans at least were giving him highly skeptical looks.

"Why wouldn't you have said so earlier?" Eduard asked irritably, stress causing him to abandon his usual silent and calculating nature. He was clearly one of the skeptics, as the majority of the room was. Matthew at least, however, had also picked up on the vibe from his brother, an ability granted no doubt due to the trait of sibling intimacy.

"That doesn't matter. Alfred, where is he then? Was he alright?" Arthur questioned. He didn't particularly care for the wellbeing of the Frenchman, at least to a certain extent, but he did care for the wellbeing of his home, and a Francis in that state could do at least as much damage to his surroundings as to himself. Alfred looked down, not meeting anyone's gaze, and took a deep breath.

"Well, 'alright' isn't how I'd describe him... you see, it happened like this. I went into the parlor after you went off to... wherever you went off to. I wanted to tell Matty somethin', though I can't remember what it is now." Alfred pursued his lips, glancing up at the ceiling briefly as though trying to call the memory forth, before shrugging and continuing his tale, "anyway I found that Russian guy's body, which was a shock let me tell you, but not so much I didn't notice the window was open-of course, I thought whoever did it escaped through there! So I jumped out to chase them down, but it was snowing so hard that I couldn't see anything..."

Of course, the window! Arthur knew he couldn't have left it unlatched. So the murderer had escaped that way? But then... if it were one of them, then the perpetrator would be obvious. Alfred said he had been outside, and from his snow-dampened clothes and windtossed hair that had to be true, but anyone who had been outside would look the same.

"Alfred..." Arthur began nervously, hoping that it wasn't true... no, it couldn't have been... not his Alfred...

"So I decided to just come back in and protect you guys! But when I went back to the window it was locked!" Alfred continued on, clearly too absorbed in his story to have heard Arthur say his name. "So I decided to try the front door, cause I was pretty cold by then, and when I came around to the front door I tripped over another body!"

The world froze.

Arthur couldn't quite hear what Alfred was saying anymore, though he could see that the American was still talking. He felt numb... two bodies? Two people murdered? And there was only one person it could be, one person unaccounted for...

Feliciano's wail of misery broke Arthur out of his strangled thoughts.

"N-nooooo! Uncle Francis!" The younger Vargas sobbed, "I kn-knew we should have taken him hooome b-but I wanted to come to the p-party aaahh...-!" And from there he descended into babbled Italian and noisy crying. Lovino was uncharacteristically silent, his gaze transferring slowly from Alfred, to his distraught brother, and finally to the wall. He didn't seem to be seeing any of it though. At Feliciano's outburst, Alfred had finally been stunned into silence. No one seemed to know what to say... Arthur could feel awkwardness seeping into the tension, everyone trying desperately to think of something, but no one having any idea how to comfort the brothers.

Finally, with a deep sigh, Ludwig walked over and pulled Feliciano into an unsure hug; the Italian latched on and buried his face in the blond's chest, still sobbing away and stammering unintelligibly.

"He must have..." Roderich began, voice breaking a little, and he quickly cleared his throat. "That is, Bonnefoy must have witnessed the murder... likely in his drunken state he panicked and escaped through the window..."

"...And ended up freezing to death." Arthur finished with a shudder, unable even to imagine how horrible it must have been for Francis, out of his mind with fear and alcohol, stumbling through the blizzard, trying to reach the front door as feeling seeped out of limbs and the heart ceased to beat... he may not have liked the Frenchman, but he wouldn't have wished that fate on anyone.

"Or was silenced by the murderer himself." Yao's arms were crossed as the Chinese man broke his quiet, his slanted glare once more directed at Alfred. "How convenient it would be... that you turn out to in fact be the first to find the bodies of both the original victim and the only witness..."


	5. A Party Divided

A/N: Much shorter chapter than usual... and it's late, I know, oh-so-late... so much for my schedule. I'm sorry about that, I really am, I guess I just suck at keeping a good handle on myself. But this story is not abandoned, and I will try to be getting chapters up as quickly as I can finish them! Thank you to all who have read and reviewed, and to those of you who have read and not reviewed... I forgive you. You're still jerks though.

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

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Chapter 5: A Party Divided

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Arthur's heart was beating a rapid rhythm in his ribcage yet again, and he licked his dry lips, wanting to immediately reject Yao's accusation but being unsure how to go about it. Simply _not wanting_ Alfred to be the killer wasn't really evidence against the possibility, and he doubted it would be accepted as such. Alfred, for his part, was giving Yao a look of mixed confusion and expectancy, as if he didn't understand the statement and was waiting for Yao to explain himself. The rest of the room needed no such elaboration, and were watching Alfred with a ragged uneasiness.

"Enough." Ludwig had stepped forward, sending a stern look in Yao's direction that had the Chinese man bristling, his lip curling in distaste. "We've already thrown enough accusations around to know it will get us nowhere. Continuing to attempt to convict one another on circumstantial evidence is a pointless endeavour that will serve only to cause senseless arguments."

"Y-yes, I agree with Ludwig." Matthew's somewhat shaky voice floated into the conversation, but no one paid him any mind, because Alfred had just realized what Yao had meant.

"Wait- you think I killed them?" He sounded truly stunned, but that lasted barely a handful of seconds before his expression darkened in anger. "I wouldn't kill anyone! I'm the hero of the story!"

"How do you figure!?" Gilbert shouted irritably, throwing a hand into the air angrily and stomping forward.

"No one is a hero." Lovino snapped from the corner. "No one's _saved _anyone!" It wasn't long before the entire room was entangled in heated debate yet again, Ludwig continuing, unsuccessfully, to try and calm everyone down while the rest hurled words like weapons and, in several cases, came dangerously close to turning the altercation into a physical one. Arthur found himself just as involved as anyone else, yelling himself hoarse in an attempt to be heard over the mess, and he honestly wasn't sure if he was, like Ludwig, trying to end the fights or perpetuate them. The only ones still silent were Raivis, shaking and hiding himself behind Eduard, Feliciano, who had collapsed in a chair and begun crying again inconsolably, and Kiku, who simply stood on the sidelines and watched with an unreadable expression, though he positively oozed disapproval.

"FINE!" Alfred's roar drowned out even the combined power of the multitude of angry voices, gaining him a moment of undivided attention, "I'll _prove _I didn't do it! I'll find out who the real killer is! Come on Mattie!" Alfred seized the arm of his protesting brother and yanked towards the door out of the room.

"Alfred-" Arthur began, but he was ignored, the closest thing he got to a response a look of resignation from Matthew.

"Well then I'll awesomely prove that he DID! Lets go, Specs."

"What? Why should I have to-" Roderich was cut off as Gilbert, in an alarmingly similar motion to the American, grabbed the Austrian by the cravat and all but dragged him into the hall.

"No, stop just a mo- Mr. Jones! Gilbert! We need to stay in one pla- I said stop!" Ludwig, despite being considerably louder and more commanding of tone than Arthur, also found himself being ignored. He halfway followed the four men out of the room, but stopped in the doorway, unsure which party to go after, and instead ended up rubbing his temples with a heavy sigh. The German found himself nudged politely but firmly out of the way by Yao, the deceptively delicate-looking Chinese wafting past him like a ghost, with Kiku not far behind.

"Our apologies, but we would prefer not to be caught up in any further... unpleasant discussions." Kiku explained demurely. "We shall wait in the foyer, if no one minds." However, neither waited to see if anyone did, and Ludwig found himself out of protests as the door suddenly became crowded.

"It's probably better if we just separate for a while." Toris suggested reasonably, Feliks still all but clinging to his arm and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "Feliks and I wanted to go see how the women were doing anyway, they've been alone for some time." Ludwig hesitated, but nodded in the face of the logic, and the two slipped away as peacefully as the Asians had.

"Me and Feli are going too, we're going to take care of Uncle Francis' body." Lovino announced with a scowl that dared anyone to argue, only a slight tremor in his voice betraying his true emotions. Feliciano was quiet still, apart from the occasional soft sob or low sniffling. Quite apart from stopping them, Ludwig looked for a moment as if he wanted to join them, but in the end it was clear that they needed to mourn, and to intrude would be quite improper, so he simply stepped aside, briefly setting a comforting hand on Feli's shoulder for a moment as he passed, to which the Italian gave him a look that might have been gratitude were it not so drowned in sorrow.

The only ones left in the room were Arthur, Ludwig, Eduard, and Raivis.

"Well... shall we join the others?" Arthur asked weakly, and Ludwig gave him an odd look, as if to ask 'which others?' although Arthur himself wasn't sure whom he meant. To be honest, he simply felt a sudden onset of claustrophobia, despite the fact that the room had become far more spacious with the subtraction of so many occupants. More than that, he felt a desire... a _need_, even, to take some sort of action. It was his house, after all, so this really was more his affair than anyone else's, was it not? So why should he remain here while others tried to handle matters?

"If you feel it is necessary, you should, although Raivis and I will be staying here. The... excitement of the evening has, I think, proven too much for his nerves." Eduard spoke up respectfully. "I am loathe to leave him alone in such a condition, especially considering the circumstances, and it would hardly be conducive to his health to go running about the house." Arthur nodded in perfect understanding.

"Of course, that is most sensible," he replied, "and you must feel free, of course, to make use of this room, and of any of the guest rooms I have should you feel yourselves in need of repose. Most of my bedrooms are located on the second floor, please do not hesitate to select one for yourselves if you wish."

"Thank you," Eduard smiled haplessly, "we shall probably remain here, although if Raivis worsens I may have to take you up on your generous offer." He hesitated a moment, then added, "we are very sorry things have gone so sour. The party was looking most promising prior to the... incidents. We hope everything is resolved, somehow."

"I thank you, though the apologies should be mine." Arthur sighed, looking away briefly, "I admit to feeling a certain amount of responsibility, seeing as this is my affair that such dark occurances have visited themselves upon."

"You cannot blame yourself," Ludwig cut in, pausing a moment to compose himself, "you have done nothing wrong, and can hardly help that such a thing has happened... still, let us not dwell too long on such thoughts. You say you wish to join the others, well, I am not sure what for, however should you choose to leave this room I will accompany you. It is safest, I think, not to move alone, and two heads, as they say, are better than one."

"That is very kind of you, Ludwig. I don't think I can argue with such logic, although I don't wish to be a trouble to you-" Arthur began politely.

"Not at all!" Ludwig assured him instantly, "it is in everyone's best interests to do all possible to prevent further tragedy." This was irrefutable, of course, and Arthur said as much. So it was that, bidding a fond farewell to the Baltic brothers, Arthur and Ludwig left the small parlor.

"First, I think, I should take care of the bit of business I mentioned earlier... telling my cook to deal with the dinner, that is." Arthur commented thoughtfully, "poor Yongsoo... he doesn't even know anything untoward has happened. He's probably wondering why no one has arrived in the dining room."

"To the kitchens then?" Ludwig asked agreeably, and Arthur nodded solemnly, and began to lead the way. An odd sort of silence had descended upon the house, a silence built around fear and an inexplicable tension, and broken only by the occasional sound of quick footsteps and quicker breathing. Arthur hardly noticed though, so disturbed were his thoughts that he could barely hold onto them, let alone take notice of his surroundings beyond the most basic of observation.

Yongsoo took the news surprisingly well, being more upset about the dinner he'd worked so hard on going to waste than the fact that someone -two people, even!- had been murdered in the house. Ludwig was a bit scandalized, but that was a fairly common reaction to Yongsoo, and Arthur thought nothing of it. It was as they were walking out of the kitchens that they heard a thump from some place upstairs, and, with only one look, simultaneously turned for the stairs and began to climb... the second floor proved empty, but Arthur couldn't help noting the door leading to the attic was cracked open, which was unusual. He made a silent gesture to it, and Ludwig nodded in understanding, striding forward to pull it all the way open.

"Hello? Who's up there?" Arthur called, stepping into the doorway and peering into the darkness.

There was no answer.

The two didn't even need to share a look this time before they began ascending, moving through the chilly blackness, up and up, into the old attic, where Arthur honestly hadn't tread for years...


	6. In Which There Is Further Incident

A/N: So... this is late. And a bit short, compared to the others. I am sorry for both these things but... good news! A lot of interesting stuff happens in this chapter! Really! I won't spoil it for you... just read and enjoy~! (And drop a review, cause, yeah. Nothing says "gimme more updates" like a nice review. Hint hint.) I love you all.

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

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Chapter 6: In Which There Is Further Incident

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The attic, when Arthur and Ludwig emerged into it from the dark stairwell, proved to have changed not at all from the last time Arthur had been up there, apart of course from an exponentially greater amount of dust and an expanded collection of cobwebs. The air smelt of age and mildew, and there was a faint sound vaguely like a whistle that indicated the large window at the end of the room, glazed with a layer of murk, must have been jarred slightly loose at some point, enough for the wind to squeak through. It was quite dark, although the whiteness outside lent an almost ethereal gray outline to the silhouettes of old boxes and abandoned furniture. Arthur dug around in his pocket for a matchbook, he didn't usually keep them as he wasn't terribly fond of smoking, but he made sure to prepare with a few of them during parties just in case one of his guests found themselves in need of a light. He was now especially glad for this preparation as he found one and plucked a match from the cardboard confines.

There was a faint hiss as he struck it, holding the match high to illuminate as much as possible. Lighting the room proved too gargantuan a task for the tiny match, which served to reveal very little that was not soon hidden again by the large shadows shifting in the flickering light. Still, it was passable for seeing if there was anyone else present besides Arthur himself and his German companion, which there wasn't.

"How odd..." Arthur murmured, using considerable self-control to keep any tremor out of his voice, and swiftly shaking the flame out before it could descend enough to burn his fingers. He tossed the snuffed match into the thick dust of the floor, and then regretted not thinking to check for footprints before he'd put it out.

"Perhaps someone simply knocked against the door..." Ludwig suggested, his tone as solid as Arthur's if not more so, although the Englishman had the impression that he was watching the blackness rather intently. There was a certain level of stiffness to the German's shoulders visible even in the poor outline the window granted, and Arthur couldn't blame him in the slightest.

"Perhaps." He agreed, nevertheless he found himself digging in his pocket for another match, thinking to check the floor this time. Surely if anyone else had been up here, there would be telltale signs in the dust. His fingers sought the little matchbook again anxiously, every second in the dark seeming to increase hypersensitivity, and although he knew he hadn't seen anyone else up here there was still this _feeling_...

There was a sudden thumping on the stairs, and Arthur couldn't help it, the paranoia was too much for his frayed nerves. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and snagged Ludwig by the sleeve, hissing "Come on then." Then he was yanking the much larger man towards the nearest potential hiding place. The timing was perfect, and he'd only just managed to wrestle Ludwig into the giant antique wardrobe with a murmured explanation of _"It could be the murderer!"_ when the door creaked open and two familiar figures slipped in.

He couldn't see all that well, the lighting in the attic was, as previously stated, 'dim' at best. Standing inside the dusty wardrobe, crowded with a tall German, old coats, and who knew what else and with the doors only open a crack wasn't helping his visual capacity either. However, one of the figures proved to have had better foresight than Arthur, as he was carrying a lit candle, and the light from that was adequate enough to identify Gilbert and Roderich. The latter was the one with the candle, and he was already searching about distastefully in the messy room, presumably looking for clues or even the hiding attacker, while the former stood lazily, perhaps lifting an old shoe or draping carpet simply for the show of it. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, then winced slightly as he imagined Ludwig's exasperation. He was about to push open the doors and announce their presence when Gilbert suddenly grabbed onto the back of Roderich's jacket and tugged.

Roderich bore a look of surprise as he found himself suddenly pushed against a wall, coughing slightly. "_Was_-" The German phrase was swiftly cut off as Gilbert placed a palm against the wall on either side of Roderich's shoulders. The candle hovered at Roderich's side, extended just enough to avoid setting anyone's clothes on fire, although the sudden movement had reduced the flame considerably.

"Hey. I'm bored of this." The Prussian stated, as if this explained everything. Roderich flushed, visible as the candle flared up again, but adopted an irritated expression nonetheless, a single delicate eyebrow arching towards his hairline.

"This ridiculous search was your idea, Gilbert. It's hardly my fault you're only now realizing the futility of it." He stated plainly, but there was a faint tremor to his voice that anyone who'd spent any significant amount of time with the Austrian would have recognized as out of place. "Besides, this is hardly the proper place, nor time..." Arthur could only hold his breath, wondering if what he was thinking could possibly be true, or if this was simply an average altercation, an extension of the arguments the two would get into regularly when put in the same room. He could only imagine that Ludwig was feeling the same sense of curiousity, as the German had made no move to betray their position either.

"Everyone's downstairs. And you know I locked the door when we came in." Gilbert appeared to ignore the majority of the Austrian's protest, instead leaning in to murmur into Roderich's ear, and the brunet musician shuddered, something Arthur could see even from their hiding place. The candlelight flickered again.

"S-still..." Roderich trailed off, the stutter entirely obvious this time as he glanced away and downwards, an action that up until now Arthur would have thought of as uncharacteristically submissive for the other man. Gilbert pulled back again, and Roderich's gaze snapped back up to the albino's face. Was that a look of _disappointment_? If it was, then it was unfounded.

Gilbert smirked, and replied with, "if you really object, then push me away why don't you?" For a moment it seemed like Roderich was going to, his unoccupied hand, previously hanging inert at his side, rising upwards. But instead of bracing against Gilbert's chest or pushing away his arms, it slid about his waist. Gilbert's smirk widened. Roderich's expression turned expectant, and Arthur heard a short low gasp emanating from somewhere behind and above him. It wasn't enough to carry out of the wardrobe, but the slight shifting led Arthur to believe that Ludwig had pressed a hand over his mouth anyway, just in case. Arthur himself was struggling with his reaction. He really, really didn't want to be witnessing this, which was not only disturbing but, well, _illegal_... however to burst out now would be an embarrassment for everyone involved, and every second he waited made it worse...

Gilbert had leaned in again, swiftly this time, kissing Roderich with a fervor and determined air of purpose that was rarely seen in him. Roderich, for his part, had tilted his head for a better angle, at the same moment pulling Gilbert closer, pressing their bodies together with an eagerness that had Arthur blushing deeply and quickly looking away, blinking at the blackness of the inside of the wardrobe. His eyesight adjusted enough to see a wide-eyed Ludwig shaking with a sort of static firmness that indicated he was trying to control it and biting on his hand, presumably to keep from shouting or otherwise making some sort of noise that might alert the no-longer-secret lovers to their presence. If this was awkward for Arthur, seeing two of his friends whom he'd always believed loathed one another suddenly displaying acts of the complete opposite persuasion, he could only imagine how mortifying it must be for Ludwig, who was watching his friend and his _brother_. Ludwig made a soft, strangled noise that was barely audible even though Arthur was standing right next to him in the small space, and some burst of damning curiousity had the British man glancing out again.

Suddenly Gilbert was cursing and beating at his sleeve, Roderich had a hand pressed to his mouth in horror. The candle had gone out, but at the moment that didn't seem to matter since the flame that had attached itself to the Prussian's clothes was providing more than enough light.

"I'm sorry- I forgot I was holding it...! I did _say _this was a bad idea...!" Roderich dropped the useless candle as he swiftly pulled off his own coat, throwing it over Gilbert's arm to effectively quench the flames. The room fell into near-pitch blackness again.

"...Great. How are we gonna explain _this _one?" Gilbert's voice floated out of the darkness, heavy with exasperation.

"More importantly, are you injured?" Roderich sounded as arch as ever, although there was a distinct thread of concern weaved through his words as well this time. There was the sound of clothing rustling, presumably the Austrian taking his coat back and donning it once more.

"Of course not. I'm too awesome to be hurt by some little flame!"

"...Right. Well, that's something." Roderich sighed, and there were footsteps on the dusty floorboards again. "I'll simply say you were being idiotic again and leave it at that. No one will bother questioning it."

"What! Oh _come _on!"

"It's practically true, anyway." The voices were growing a bit fainter, and the footsteps seemed to be heading down the stairs now. "It's dreadfully dark in here, hold onto the rail or you'll fall."

"Maybe you would," Gilbert sounded petulant now, "why are we suddenly leaving anyway, we'd only just got started!" A second set of footsteps could be heard moving in roughly the same direction as the first.

"...Perhaps being lit on fire isn't enough to kill the mood for you, but I've returned to my senses at least. There are more important matters at hand."

"Ugh, this is the worst party ever." If there was a response to this, it was lost as the door at the bottom of the stairs creaked open and the footsteps faded away, the two obviously having left the attic.

There was silence, for an indeterminable amount of time. It felt like hours. It was, in actuality, less than five minutes. Then, just when Arthur thought he would suffocate from the sheer awkwardness of it all, Ludwig cleared his throat.

"I... ah... I should hope..." He stopped, apparently choking on the words, or perhaps simply at a loss for them. Arthur waited politely for the other man to collect himself. "That is, I would very much appreciate it if you would be so good as to join me in pretending... _that_... never happened."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Thank you."

"Quite." Actually, Arthur felt just as relieved as Ludwig sounded. He didn't really want to face what they'd witnessed either, for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which the uncomfortable thoughts and questions it had brought on about his own unnerving emotions surrounding a certain American. Who was he to judge Gilbert and Roderich? Well... then again, at least he hadn't acted on any of his urges. Although... although... did that really make him the better man? Or was it that Gilbert and Roderich had something he didn't? Were they more courageous for pursuing their desires? ...Was he just a coward, after all?

"Um... perhaps we should leave now. Or at least get out of this wardrobe." Ludwig's voice cut through Arthur's introspection, and the British man blushed to realize his lapse, grateful now for the darkness that surrounded them and obscured their vision.

"Ah-yes, of course." He pushed open the wardrobe door and stepped out hurriedly, taking a deep breath and doing his best to dispell... whatever it was that was unbalancing him. Ludwig was out now as well, Arthur could sense him hovering nearby, as though unsure what to do now. They may have agreed to act as though the... scene had never taken place, but that was easier said than done, and it was only natural that they both, Ludwig in particular, be at least a little thrown. "Shall we... return to the downstairs?" Arthur suggested with a small cough. There was a moment of silence, possibly Ludwig had nodded, dazed enough for the fact that they were unable to see each other to momentarily slip his mind.

"Oh- yes. I imagine so. Um." He moved a bit ahead of Arthur, clearly eager to be out of the attic now that he had recovered himself. Arthur didn't blame him on the slightest, and the two were soon down the stairs once more, blinking in the light of the hallway as the attic door swung shut behind them. The reason for going up in the first place had quite escaped them now, and the questions of where the mysterious thump from so much earlier had come from, and why the attic door had been open, went unanswered for the moment.

And then suddenly there was Yao, appearing as if out of nowhere, although it was clear he was coming from the direction of the stairs to the ground floor. He appeared uncharacteristically ruffled, although it was really an impression given due to his posture, coupled with quick, sharp movements and the way his eyes were suddenly wide and alert, as his clothing and hair were still perfectly arranged. He gestured frantically for a moment, then seemed to remember himself and straightened, clearing his throat once before speaking.

"There has been- another incident. You should come, quickly. Everyone is downstairs again..." he paused, "excepting the women, of course." Arthur felt his blood run cold. Another... "incident"...? He couldn't possibly mean... but what else could it be?

"You cannot mean-...!" Apparently Ludwig had been thinking along similar lines, and in fact it was he that moved to follow Yao first, Arthur giving himself a quick shake and moving to do the same after only a moment. They rushed down the stairs, Yao in the lead, and though Arthur made an attempt to ask for more details between gasps of breath, they were not forthcoming. The Chinese man remained silent until they had all reached... the parlor.

The first thing Arthur saw was Toris. The Lithuanian was standing just outside the door, staring off into space with a horrifyingly blank expression on his face. He was mouthing something, and as they drew closer it was audible as a whisper. "I let him go... I didn't even think... I just let him go..." Clearly, the man was in shock, but Arthur knew of no way to help him, particularly since he didn't even know yet what had happened... although he had a pretty strong suspicion at this point. Ludwig had already carefully, but firmly, taken Toris by the shoulder and moved him carefully to the side of the doorway. Yao hurried past, Arthur drawn inexorably after him...

Eduard and Raivis were not present, nor was Matthew, and Alfred explained somewhere in the background that the Canadian had gone to inform the other two, as well as the Italian brothers, and would return shortly. Kiku stood over by one of the bookshelves, respectfully keeping his distance. Roderich was sitting in one of the chairs, white as a sheet, and Gilbert was over by the window, staring out into the blizzard, silent as the grave.

Feliks was on the floor, in a puddle of red that could only have come from the gaping scarlet crescent that had been sliced in his throat. His eyes were wide and glazed, his expression a mixture of fear, horror, and pain. Arthur could only stare numbly, barely noticing that Ludwig had come in behind him, or that Yao had joined Kiku by the bookshelf.

"What..." Arthur heard someone asking, and if it hadn't been for the dry feeling in his mouth he wouldn't have realized it was his own voice. He licked his lips, cleared his throat, tried again. "What happened...? How... did..." No one seemed to want to answer, but at last it was Alfred who did.

"We don't know. We heard this... yell, it was kinda strangled really. And me and Mattie came running, got here about the same time as Mr. Honda and Mr. Wang." Alfred rubbed the back of his neck, for one all boyish humor was drained out of him, and it was... heartbreaking to see such a lost look in his eyes, usually so bright and full of confidence. "Toris was the one who yelled. We found him in here and... well, we can't... really get much out of him. But I don't think... I mean, look at him, it's not possible he did it." Arthur just nodded. How could he disagree? He could still remember Toris' expression. It was like _he _had been the one killed. Feliks and Toris had always been close, the best of friends from what Arthur understood. It wasn't conceivable that Toris could be at fault... but it was imperative that something be done for him posthaste.

They needed answers. _Now_.


End file.
